


Paradigms

by dreamlittleyo



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010), X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crack, Crossover, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(This meant to be crackfic. It kind of failed.) Clu and Tron: take them off the Grid, put them in a world full of mutants and humans, and they still can't get along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paradigms

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lovely **[kaz_tiel](http://kaz_tiel.livejournal.com)** , who deserves nice things always.

"You're a little strange," Logan informs the new guy blandly. And sure, he's one to talk, but he's also in a position to know. There's something off about this guy—something in his smell, his eyes, the unearthly smoothness of his skin.

He's not trouble (not with capital T, anyway). Logan's got good instincts for trouble. Hell, he also knows a genuine hero when he sees one. But hero or not, this one is strange. There's a warning tingle beneath Logan's skin every time he looks at the guy.

"I've been called strange before," the man says, and there's a wry smile on his lips. Logan cocks his head to the side and considers the face wearing that smile.

Smooth jaw. Long nose, narrow but strong. Eyes that glitter with more light than the dim kitchen should allow for.

"Your name's Tron?" Logan asks. He's heard the name a couple times, though he's never been properly introduced. Logan slouches back in his chair and levels his gaze across the table, over the tops of two half-empty bottles of soda (no beer in the school's kitchen). Tron nods. His posture is impossibly straight.

"You got any other name?" Logan asks.

Tron shakes his head no. He doesn't reach for his drink. He looks like he knows he's being evaluated, but the scrutiny doesn't seem to unsettle him.

"Just Tron," he says. "It's what I've always been called. Even before I came here."

There's a distance in his eyes when he says the word ' _here_ '; something fleeting and far away. Tron clearly doesn't just mean the school. Or the county of Westchester, or even the state of New York. Logan's not sure _what_ the word is meant to encompass. Wherever Tron comes from, it's a hell of a lot farther away than Logan wants to decipher.

"So what is it you do?" Logan asks, changing the subject and not particularly caring if the result is awkward and abrupt.

"I have an affinity for computers," says Tron. "Anything electronic, really. But especially computers. I can get inside them." He says it with a careless shrug, but there's something in the way his eyes cut to the side that indicates more.

"But that's not all you can do," Logan observes. He expects Tron to startle at being called out, but Tron simply raises his eyes calmly, a mysterious smile just hinting at one corner of his mouth.

"No," Tron concedes. And then there's a soft pulse of light, a mounting glow that starts from somewhere behind Tron's eyes, and from a scattering of inexplicable bright spots on his arms, his chest. Four squares of light in the shape of a small 'T' flash through the thin fabric of Tron's shirt, and then fade abruptly along with the rest of the light. The kitchen suddenly feels even darker than before, and Tron says, "You're right. That's not all I can do."

"Care to elaborate?" Logan arches one eyebrow.

Tron's smile widens, but he shakes his head.

"I don't really know how to describe it in words. I'm… not used to explaining. It's really just energy."

"Sure," Logan chuckles. He reaches for his soda, takes a slow drink and wishes the stuff weren't so damn fizzy.

Quiet lingers in the air for long moments. Tron seems in no hurry to fill the silence with unnecessary words, and it's Logan who finally speaks.

"Don't take this the wrong way," he says, setting aside the now empty bottle, "But what are you doing here? You seem more like the lone hero type. I can't imagine there's anything you need from us."

"You mean here at the school," Tron says, and Logan nods. Tron answers without pausing to collect his thoughts, as though the answer is obvious. "Professor Xavier said there were people who needed protecting. He said I could help."

"That's it?" Logan asks, trying not to sound incredulous. Working with the X-Men has worn down some of his cynicism, but he still has a tough time believing a stranger who claims to have no ulterior motives.

But Tron's expression is unflinching, and sure in a way that speaks of honest truth.

"My purpose is to protect," Tron says. "What's the point in fighting if I don't have someone to fight for?"

Logan can think of plenty of other reasons to fight, but he doesn't voice them. They won't mean much to a bona fide hero type, and anyway he's not here to argue. He's got plenty of his own issues, his own messes to sort out. He doesn't need to put them on someone else just for the sake of playing devil's advocate.

Logan lapses into silence again. He considers going to the fridge for another soda, but what he really wants is a cold beer, so he doesn't bother standing up. He figures Tron will wait him out again, comfortable as he seems with silence, so he's startled when Tron is the first to speak.

"I have a brother." Then, after a pause that seems more confused than confessional, Tron adds, "Sort of."

"You sort of have a brother," Logan echoes blankly. "How does that work?"

"It's complicated," says Tron, and the expression that spreads across his face is a little too pensive to be described as sheepish. "His name is Clu. I haven't seen him since I came here." Again the ambiguity of that word. ' _Here_ '. Like it doesn't mean what it's supposed to.

"Were you close?" Logan asks. It's not that it's any of his business—it's not even that he particularly cares—but something in Tron's eyes makes it clear he has more to say.

"Not particularly," Tron admits. "We never saw eye-to-eye on the important things. He was always on the verge of going too far."

"You miss him?" Logan asks.

"A little," Tron admits. "But mostly I worry what will happen when he follows me." He says it with a finality free of doubt, and the apprehension in his voice sends chills along Logan's skin.

"He dangerous?" Logan asks.

Tron hesitates, but finally he nods.

"Yes," Tron says. "Dangerous and stubborn."

"Does the Professor know all this?"

"Of course." Tron looks startled at the mere concept that he could have kept the information to himself. "How could I have accepted his hospitality otherwise?"

Yup, Logan thinks. Definitely a hero. There's a jarring innocence at work here, and Logan doesn't quite know what to make of it.

"I was thinking," Tron says, and his tone is lighter. A shift in topic, then, away from this murky terrain. "That is, if you wouldn't mind… I haven't had a chance to spar with anyone since I arrived at the school. People seem so busy, and…" He trails off, and Logan's eyebrows arch high on his head.

"And what?" he prompts.

"And I wouldn't want to hurt anyone," Tron says. There's no pride in the words. This isn't a careless boast. Logan wonders if he's really strong enough to warrant the caution he carries in his shoulders. "I've heard you're practically invincible," Tron continues, watching Logan with curious eyes.

"Nah," Logan says with a smirk. "Not invincible. I just heal quick. But why not. Sounds like fun."

Logan stands, then. He doesn't bother picking up his empty bottle from the table as he heads for the door.

"Meet me in the Danger Room at six," he says over his shoulder. "No one will be using it that early in the morning."

Tron smiles and inclines his head, a quick nod of acknowledgment, and Logan steps out into the hall.

 

\- — - — - — - — - 

Tron adapts quickly to the rhythms of the school, and to the world it's part of. Everything is so different from the Grid in its particulars, but when he steps back and really looks, Tron can see similarities in every direction.

There are still patterns. There are still power nodes and communication systems and hierarchies. Most importantly, there are still people to protect.

Clu does find him eventually. Tron has always known he would. He's always known Clu's arrival would herald violence and destruction—Clu's quest for perfection twisting fiercely in on itself when faced with chaos he can't control—and Tron steps forward, meeting Clu in the open grass.

Behind him stands a line of X-Men, poised and taut. Behind Clu, nothing but a crackle of power, but it will be more than enough to kill all but the strongest of the mutants in range.

"Enough," Tron says. He can see from Clu's furrowed brow that the softness of the word has confused him.

"How can you stand with them?" Clu hisses. "They're _nothing_. They're nothing but flesh and chaos and petty desires. You're better than them." His eyes burn with possessive light, an actual visible glow, and it's abundantly clear where he thinks Tron belongs instead.

"I know who I fight for, Clu," Tron says. His voice holds no room for argument.

Clu snarls, wordless rage, and grabs Tron around the throat. His fingers dig tightly into flesh, bruising and stronger than any human grip—stronger than any mutant grip for that matter—but Tron meets Clu's eyes steadily.

"Leave them alone," he says. His voice sounds choked, but his resolve is no less for it. He feels Clu's power crackling along his skin, flowing into his own circuits, lighting him up like a freshly charged relay tower. The energy twists in the air, every molecule inundated, an unnecessary threat.

"They can't have you," Clu hisses. "They are _flawed_."

The power twists tighter around them, and in a flash of vicious inspiration, Tron knows what he has to do. He starts slowly, subtly calling the excess power towards himself—towards Clu. He gathers it in as carefully as he can, and it's not until both he and Clu are glowing brighter that Clu's eyes widen with realization.

"What are you doing?" Clu asks.

Tron just smiles and steps closer, and though Clu's fingers don't loosen around his throat, they don't impede his approach either. Clu offers no resistance when Tron reaches for him—when Tron frames Clu's face with his hands and kisses him.

Clu stands frozen for a moment, and Tron wonders if he miscalculated. The power is swirling tighter around them now, twining tight and sharp, and if Clu decides to resist—

But an instant later Clu surges against him. A shattered sound escapes his throat as he drags Tron close. He crushes Tron against his body with greedy arms, claims Tron's mouth like this kiss was his idea.

Tron submits, and wraps his arms around Clu's shoulders as the energy in the air twists closer and closer, a narrow column of wind and power. The light is almost overwhelming now, but Tron's eyes are closed, and he reaches inside himself, looking for the spark he needs—

 

\- — - — - — - — - 

The explosion is cacophonous. A piercing shriek of power whirling in on itself, up into the sky—whipping the clouds into a flashing frenzy, blue and blinding. The X-Men shield their eyes from the maelstrom, an electric column of light too intense to look at.

Logan is the one to step forward when it stops. He's the one who finds the gouged earth where the two figures stood. He's the first to see the glittered, crumbling debris that lies scattered where two bodies should be.

Those aren't ashes. He's never seen anything like them.

"What was that?" Scott asks when Logan returns to the group.

"Fuck if I know," Logan says. His voice is tired and heavy with regret. "Let's go home."

 

\- — - — - — - — - 

"Where are we?" Clu asks. There's darkness around them. A blank grid, empty beneath his feet. He searches instinctively for information, and comes away with nothing. A malleable enough environment, but Clu can't get his bearings because there's nothing _here_.

"I don't know," Tron admits, and annoyance surges through Clu's circuits.

"You zapped us into oblivion, and you didn't stop to consider where we would land?" Clu hisses. Of course not. Tron's never been one to think ahead. That was always Clu's job.

Tron's expression is one of quiet amusement, and Clu growls as he turns away.

"You didn't leave me much choice," Tron points out. He sounds perfectly reasonable. Clu tries to hate him, but as always, he fails.

"I gave you every choice," he insists darkly. "I gave you the chance to join me. You did this for _them_."

"Yes," Tron says.

" _Why_?" Clu demands, whirling and finding Tron nearer than he expects.

"You know why." But perhaps there's a hint of confusion on Clu's face, because Tron only watches him for a moment before putting it into words anyway. "I fight for the Users."

"I hate you."

But Tron only smiles sadly at the rebuke, and shakes his head.

"No you don't," he says.

Then he steps forward and takes Clu's hand. Clu startles at the touch, staring down at their clasped fingers, then raising his eyes to blink at Tron in blatant bafflement.

"Come on," says Tron, giving his hand a tug. "Let's figure out where we are."


End file.
